


The Brooklyn Blinder

by thosepeakybastards



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Classism, Other, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Prohibition, SO MANY OC's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-31 08:00:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15115130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thosepeakybastards/pseuds/thosepeakybastards
Summary: Michael moves into New York to attend business there.





	1. The Brooklyn Big shot

Michael dreaded going through US customs. He hadn’t been given any specific instruction besides that someone would meet him there. No one was to come to America with him. And no one he knew was there waiting for him. Instead there were a troupe of American men in their mid thirties waiting. 

“You’re Michael Gray?” one laughed, seeing Michael's age.

“Yeah,” Michael said, already exasperated, “That’s me. And who are you?”

“Gio Trotti,” the man said, “these are Tony Bergamaschi and his brother Tino. and this nut here is Rocco. Tino will be taking your bags to your new apartment while you come with us”

Michael knew he couldn’t argue but was still loathe to give up his bags and go with 3 Italians anywhere. He knew he had no choice though. So into the car he got, into the backseat with Tino. Or Tony. Gio hadn’t bothered to differentiate the brothers and Michael didn’t really care. But Michael felt his heart pound a little as the car came to a stop in front of one of the tallest buildings he had ever seen. Then again most of the buildings were the tallest he had ever seen. Everything seemed rather new, not only to Michael but in general as well. The streets seemed cleaner, the people more colorful and the women prettier. 

Michael admired the marble tile on the floor as he stepped his way into the Apartment building. Up the elevator they went, the attendant not even having to ask Gio what floor to go to. Bright sunlight shone through the window at the end of the hall as they made their way to whoever it was that he was to meet. He had been given a folder full of information on Capone that Tommy had compiled. The man was a certified badass that wasn’t even afraid of throwing politicians down the steps of court buildings. While Michael had bullet wounds in his torso, Capone bore his battle scars on his face proudly. But when he stepped into the room to meet his new boss, it wasn’t Capone, but another Italian man in his early 30’s.

“Sit down.” he had said, “Al said he wasn’t going to be able to be up here in New York for you , but to trust me to run business with you so we can bring all that wonderful gin your family makes into town. So since we are gonna be working so closely together, I guess you need to know my name. Frank Vale.” Vale extended his hand for Michael to shake.

“Michael Gray,” Michael said, taking Vale’s hand.

“Not anymore it’s not,” Vale said, “Didn’t you wonder how my men got you skipping immigration?  
You’re paperwork already has you as an American, so anyone asks, your name is Michael Zingaro. Or if you’ll let me call you Mickey, it’s more American anyway.”

Michael’s nostrils flared slightly at the nickname. But he conceded to it anyway. Vale pulled a couple of cigars from the lining of his jacket and offered one to Michael, who had only ever smoked cigarettes before. Michael took one and accepted the light that was offered as well. The kick was a lot stronger than what he was used to, but he was able to keep himself from coughing. 

“Now to hammer this out and not waste time,” Vale said, “You’re not gonna be working distribution at all. That’s all us. Your job is to keep track of which boats are coming in and out of which ports and how much is on each boat. Your cousin supposedly will keep in contact with you to make sure you know what will be what. You’ll also see Gino about any matters of money involving your family’s cut and your own personal well. We don’t use banks. You can’t trust them. But you don’t ever have to worry about tapped phones in your residency. We have every cop paid off and a number of federal agents. Mr. Shelby even made sure you have a Rolls Royce waiting in the garage of your building. In this stack of papers are the names of everyone you’ll need to know in order to make sure this operates smoothly.”

“You sure like to explain things, don’t you Frank?” Michael said.

“Well yeah kid. You think that I want some fuck up because some fucker is twiddling his thumbs not knowing what to do. That’s how people get caught, dead, or both.”

Michael tried to hide his grin, this was going to be a pleasant change from all of Tommy’s bullshit secret keeping. He listened as Vale continued.

“Now for matters of pleasantries, if you ever need a little female company, I run most of the whorehouses here in Brooklyn, if you let them know you work with me, it’s free of charge. But if you do pay, they’ll send the girl to your apartment rather than make you go to the house itself.”

“With all due respect, I’ve proven quite successful at getting women to sleep with me for free without needing an association with their boss.” Michael said with a laugh. 

“Be that as it may, Mickey,” Vale said, “all the prettiest girls here are under my employ. Now, Tino will take you to your new apartment, Signor Zingaro.”

Michael picked up the stack of papers that Vale had given him as he got up from the armchair in which he had been sitting. After bidding Vale a goodbye, he and Tino returned to the car in silence and took off again, this time to a smaller, but still nice, apartment building. Tino parked on the roadside and was still for a moment before opening his mouth for the first time to speak to Michael as he handed him the keys to the new apartment where supposedly Michaels things will be waiting.. 

“I know you’re new in town. And I know you don’t speak Italian, but I don’t feel right letting you go around with that name without you knowing what it means. Just isn’t ethical. But you ought to know-”

“What does it mean, Tino?”

“Michael the Gypsy.”


	2. The Brooklyn Bouncer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael discovers Brooklyn Brothels ain't so easy

Michael groaned as he entered his new apartment alone. He wanted a drink, but it was America and its stupid law that prevented him from easily accessing the alcohol he craved and was used to having. But there was one thing that he could have easy access to. And perhaps they’d be able to provide the needed inebriation. So he looked through the paperwork given and found the list he had wanted. The addresses of several of what were apparently Vale’s recommended brothels. Michael couldn’t help but feel like this was ridiculously easy, when getting information back home was as easy as extracting a tooth. 

He stepped into his bedroom and changed his clothes. The day had been long and he felt dirty and sticky compared to the town itself. He grabbed his cane and hobbled back down to the lobby, asking the doorman how to get to the address that he had scribbled down a few minutes prior.

“Sir it’s just two doors down the street,” the lobbyman said, gesturing the direction he’d need to go. 

Michael was surprised at this. Back home the whorehouses were in destitute locations while he thought that every building on this street was at the very least decent housing. As he approached, he noticed a creature akin to a newsie smoking on the steps of the building.

“Hey kid,” Michael said, ”bit early for you to be a client here. Innit?”

The boy stood up, and then Michael noticed the fact he’d missed prior. The boy, while appearing somewhat shapeless under men’s clothes, had the face of an angel and lips red as the Devil. But the angel wasn’t too happy to be spoken to as Michael had.

“And it’s a bit early in the evening for gents wanting business to walk up here acting like a stuck up prick.” 

Michael was amused to say the least. No one back home dared speak to him like that outside of the family. But if this was what american whores were like, he’d visit more for comedy than sex. His response to her insult was a mistake. 

“Well Mr. Vale said I just had to mention his name and I'd be set up proper with one of you girls. But if I have to pay for your forgiveness to sleep with me-”

“I'm the bouncer.”

“You're the what?”

“You heard me,” she said, “and I don't care what Frankie told you. The only way you get what you're after is to respect me and those girls in there doing their job. Got it?”

Michael has never had a girl buff up to him that way. During that conversation she had strutted up to him, making herself as big as she could and practically chest to chest with him. He didn't need to look but could feel a blade pressed against his torso through his clothes. He grinned.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, “what’s your name?”

“Leona Walker. But you and everyone else call me Leo” she said. 

“Well Leo. I don’t think I'll be going in tonight. Instead I think I wanna sit on these steps with you if that's alright.”

She watched him for a moment, assessing him before shrugging. “Fine by me.”

He sat across her and watched her pull a glass pipe from her pocket and light it. Michael was disgusted by the smell.

“What kind of shit are you smoking?” He asked, grimacing. 

“Oh you've never smoked the green?” she asked, “come here, take a hit. What’s your name anyway?”

She laughed as she had to show him how to smoke and he coughed out his new name. 

“Well, Michael ‘ahem' Zingaro, what brought you to Brooklyn. English accent and all.”

Michael's reply was simple, “business. And what of you? English name and all”

“My mother was a suffragette. My father died in the war, and when we got the vote, mom felt the next cause was up here in women's factory rights. But she got pneumonia and was in a box before we could really get settled here.”

“Alright,” Michael said, mind starting to haze, “humour me, what’s a suffragette?”

Leo looked as if someone asked her what color her unders were. “How do you not know? They only got it 2 years before us in your country! We women stood outside the white house for our right to vote. Through arrests, in the suppressing heat, in the bleak midwinter.” 

“Hold on, did you just say ‘in the bleak midwinter’?” Michael choked on the smoke.

“I thought we were talking about women’s suffrage, not fucking seasons.”

“Nevermind then, Leo. I’m not going to lie to you. Ever since we started smoking this, I can’t stop looking at that red lipstick of yours. And seeing as this is a place of business, I have to ask. How much would it take for you to give me a kiss from that pretty mouth?”

Leo looked Michael up and down. “50 cents, and you can’t do that weird nose smoking thing anymore. You waste it that way.” she said, thinking it would deter him. To her shock he put 2 dollars into her hand.

“Then that will be 4 kisses,” Michael said, shmoozy grin on his face. 

She bit her lip, but 2 dollars was more than most factory girls made in a day. So she scooted closer to him and when his hand cupped her cheek, she closed her eyes and let him his her. His lips were soft, an uncommon trait among the men she was used to meeting. 

Michael pulled away and glanced at her soft face and the freckles that speckled her rosy cheeks. He kissed her again and thought he felt her kiss him back softly before he pulled away. “I think I’ll save the other two,” he said, “I have to go home now anyway. But I do expect to see you again, so just tell me, when do you work?

Leo grinned, “every day from 1-10.” 

Michael went home after that. Thinking he heard her laugh once his back was turned. He felt the same of the lobby man. But he felt fantastic with the knowledge he had found a pretty girl and a friend. Once he got in his room he stepped into the bathroom to clean the smell of the stinking smoke from himself. When he glanced in the mirror, he saw the source of the laughter. Leo’s lipstick was left on his mouth, now the color of cherry wine. It didn’t matter though. He’d never seen a woman that stunned him so much, and she was gonna be his, by order of the Brooklyn Blinder.


End file.
